


Forbidden Fruit

by buckybarnesplumwhore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dark Fanfic, F/F, F/M, Smut, beware of these warnings: dub non-con, dark marvel, king barnes, marvel smut, steve rogers is a evil cunning bastard in this, this is dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnesplumwhore/pseuds/buckybarnesplumwhore
Summary: You grieve over the death of your dead lover, Wanda --- unbeknownst to you, you're the apple of a certain king's eye.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Forbidden Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> pairings: dark king!Bucky x black!reader / former village witch!Wanda Maximoff x black!reader  
> Warnings: dub non-con, murder, choking, breeding .. ya know the whore vibes.  
> A/N: Requested by Roo, (darkficsyouneveraskedfor from tumblr) aka my wife — historical smut is our mutual kink. <3 another medieval Bucky?! Fuck yes. I’m drooling right now. And dark medieval Bucky?! A fucking wet dream. I hope you enjoy this, Roo. I wrote it with love. <3  
> p.s. I was listening to this medieval cover of Creep, and it just fit the mood for me. Medieval covers of modern songs is my JAM. <3
> 
> Do Not Repost My Works! Follow my writing blog: buckybarnesplumwhore

Grief is a strange state of mind. You are alone – loneliness constricts your soul – in this world – a blight of death lingers upon your days. The stench of a decaying heart oozes from your pores, zombified mulling has become your stature – living has now become a chore you could no longer bear. Attempts to find solace in your small garden, or seek tedious conversations with your close confidantes – Natasha, and Sharon – in search of comfort – but it was fruitless. Your soulmate was gone, burned into crisp.

Her brown auburn hair frayed in flames, her blood-curdling screams deafened your ears – you can still hear her cries at night. Hog-tied, and bound for a false crime – the cheers and chants of _kill the witch, kill the witch, kill the witch_ ring like crackling metal cowbells battering your eardrums. The ashes of a smolder cadaver salvaged into an urn, tucked under your arm, scurrying in the dead of the night to bury her. Dug a hole deep enough of a familiar grave – tears watered the disturbed soil, as dirt and grit littered nimble fingers gingerly laid the urn to rest upon the coffin.

Here lies the brave warrior, Pietro Maximoff, a Slovakian immigrant, who died in battle in honor of King Barnes, now reunited in the afterlife with his other-half – Wanda.

A brother and sister now soaring high among the clouds, two pure souls now cradled in the hands of the almighty Lord – the heavens have gained another angel.

Putrefying flesh forced to be paraded in stitched elegant cloth crafted by your hands, forced to attend a banquet – not just a regular fest – _no_ – the young princess of the royal Barnes family has been wedded off, Princess Rebecca of Brooklynite now bares the noble title, Queen Rumlow. The palace erupted in splendor, overwhelming in joyous celebration. The wind band at full swing – drunk royal allies merrily wailing, and dancing upon the banquet floor. By default of your entrusted role of handmaiden, and personal dressmaker of the youthful highness – you were expected to make an appearance.

The atmosphere was flooded by a mouth-watering aroma, platters of cooked meals – pig head, wild game, smoked fish, roasted peacock, cut steamed vegetables, sweetened desserts, and dried fruit coated in dribbled honey. The Great Hall is decorated in silk curtains draping on the high windows, never-ending refills of ale, lively minstrels, and troubadours of noble high-regards. King Barnes will go above and beyond of excellent splendor for his sister.

The royal family is seated at the stretched mahogany table at the center of the corridor: King Barnes, his mother Queen Barnes on his right, his sister on his left. Beyond seated next to the aging monarch was the _curia regis_ , himself – Steven Rogers. Swathed combed blonde-hair, piercing blues, sharp mighty jaw, magenta and navy color patterns resemble him to be a pampered aristocrat, but he holds himself to be a knight – ready for the fight of honor.

A bitter taste lingers in your mouth, as you witness Steve shamelessly flirt with Sharon. It hasn’t been nearly a year since his “ _betrowed_ ” Dutchess Peggy Carter has passed, and now he mingles with her youngest niece. You often ponder if he used Peggy’s status to gain more of popularity favor, and her wealth? He does prance in fancier clothing – besides the ones Barnes spoils him with.

You never brought the conversation to Sharon, fearing to offend her, and provoke her mourning of her great aunt. But the tasteless courtship nerves you. King Barnes cheekily pecks his sweet little sister on the cheek as she sits by his side with a pure grin clasping onto her new husband’s hand – as you sulk in the farthest corner, distancing yourself from the lively crowds.

If it was left to your decision, you would be isolated in your chambers – drowning in your tears, and mead. It’s been three full moons since the passing of your lover, and the wound of mourning is still fresh. You stole a glance at Rebecca, envy’s hideous head rearing – why couldn’t you be in love? Why has fate – the heavens – have forgotten you so? The creamy white fabric sewn, and gracefully stitched draped her magnificently, her natural beauty gleams.

Skin as fresh milk luster within opulent cloth, satin silk embroidered with lace under the cuff. A lace trimming that separates the top of the sleeve from the bottom cuff which is adorned with silver and pearl brooches — as if you captured the twinkling night stars, shooting moonbeams and soft haunting orbs sunlight to fabric.

A sense of pride hummed over you.

At last, you buried the jealousy deep in your shattered cavity, genuinely happy that at least love still prevails.

Mindlessly plucking ripped pieces of fessant off your plate, popping it into your mouth, as the heel of your other palm propped you up by your chin – hazily staring at the drunken fools berating themselves. Your other hand flickering with your long braids – fingers twirling, the curled ends grazing against your chavile. Your brown orbs scan the room, hazily observing the charade, till you reach back to a giggling Rebecca – your breath hitched.

Cerulean pools pierce through you, sternly unwavering. Five seats away from you is his Majesty himself, Barnes. Gawking at you intensely, like a wolf sniffing out his prey. Your eyes widened, frozen in your seat. He lifted his chin up, his hues looking you up and down – as if he was inspecting you. It made your skin crawl, immediately pulling your gaze from his. Luckily everyone was drunkenly distracted, unable to see the king making daggers at you – through your peripheral vision, he’s still staring at you.

Drinking from his goblet, above the rim was his pools peering at you. He finally tore away from you, at the very moment his sister, Rebecca tugged on his arm; hugging him. He caressed her cheek tenderly.

You nervously stand up, your shaky hands rubbing against your gown, drying your clammy sweat into the fabric. Dashing feet snuck you out of your seat, quiet footfalls snuffed by uproarious chatter, and music. In a flash, you bolted out of the grand hall, exiting through a barren entryway; heading straight for your chambers.

Entirely missing Barnes’ amused grin, and arched brow.

-  
Silence. The corridors were deafening, the only cadence is your nimble feet clicking against the pavement. Splotches of ignited dimmed carnelian glow against your flesh gleaming a haunting sepia. Fingertips grazing against the stone walls to maintain balance from your tipsy stupor.

Confusion over-rides in your mind, why did King Barnes stare at me? So … intensely? Never has the king been so vehement before – especially with me. Of all maidens, his attention falls upon me. Why?

Unanswered questions swirl in your head like furious wasps, stinging nerves throb painfully, soothing your temples by your tips, glossy quartz blankly glimpse at the lit torches nailed to the wall – there she is. A small dark figure dances in the flames, thriving limbs swirl around; she’s in pain. If you could just grab her, and keep her – maybe she can sleep on a flower-bed, your own Thumbelina. Your heart aches, desperate fingers slowly try to touch the fire, but blazing heat torment you. At last, just like before – you couldn’t save her from her fate. The smoky figure stills, it waves solemnly, and simmers in ashes.

“Do you often stare at fire, my lady?” A husky timbre pulled you out of your trance, flinching at the sudden intrusion. Hot tears slip down your cheeks, quickly wiping it away. Through blurry vision, shrouded in darkness, is Barnes. “No, your Highness. My apologies, I’ll take my leave now.” Fidgety fingers, and averted eyes, you turn to move away but he caught your elbow. “Do not apologize, I’m sorry if I offended you.” Barnes pulled your body closer to him, offering a small smile. Both gigantic paws grip your elbows, “No, your Highness. You haven’t offended me.” You meekly spoke, a timid smile, shallow breathing.

“Bucky.” You snapped your head upwards, “Beg your pardon?” You quizzically question him, “I bessek you to call me, Bucky.” You gasped at him, soft shake of the head in refusal. His voice was kind, but it came off as more of a demand. “Your Hig–” He glared at you, cowering underneath his intense stare, “Bucky, that would be inappropriate of me. It’s not my place.” He shushed you, his knuckles nuzzling your cheek.

“Tis only fair, we’ve known each other for a few years.” The spot where his fingers touched heated, tingling. Traveling the terrain of your face, fingers find refuge in your hair, toying with the silk ribbons woven within the braiding, intently inspecting. “Rebecca’s gown is magnificent. Your touch is impeccable.” Twirling curled ends pinched between his fingers tips.

“I thank you.” You awkwardly lower your eyes away from him, his finger lifting your chin, “You’ve been crying.” His brows furrow, inspecting your sheen eyes. “Why ales you?” His palm cups your face, lowering his face closer to you, low pants of fear, you tilted your head away from him, a cough to cover the awkwardness. "Nothing, Bucky.” You finally free yourself from his grasp, the brisk air from the open windows cooling your skin.

Walking towards the stone window, staring at the village located in the distance – a burnt wooden pillar stood mockingly in the village square. Your facial lines morphed in discomfort, sobs wrecked your chest. Bucky’s warm palms contrasted your icy skin, twisting you around to face him, “Please do not cry, such a beauty shouldn’t be pained with sorrow.” Bucky’s nose flared, his eyebrows twisted sympathetically. Cupping your cheeks, his thumbs swiping away tears. Bucky slipped into a trance of adoration. You weren’t like the other noble women who would bleed themselves to achieve pale skin.

He can inquire of a memory of his former flame, Dutchess Dorothy – who he fondly donned Dot – who would walk weakly due to losing some blood. When he asked her why would she harm herself, she would tenderly reply, “Beauty is pain, my King.”

But you didn’t have to reach extreme techniques. No, you were a specimen of worldly beauty. “Bucky?” you tried to coax him out of his trance; his dilated eyes, and curled smile sent a shiver down your spine. Your dainty palms hold onto his hands, weak tugs to free your face – but it is fruitless. “Your Highness, please release me.” Your timid voice broke his haze, he growled lowly, “I thought I told you to call me, Bucky?” A grin, all teeth.

“My apologies.” Your watery eyes instinctively travel to your right, eyeing the burnt log standing proudly beyond the distance, hiding among the wild trees of the royal acres – you sniveled a bit. A snort startled you. “A fitting punishment for such sorcery.” Bucky sneered, a smug smile as he stared out in the distance. Your eyes snapped back at him. Your nose flared, rage, and grief murking deep in your gut, strangling your spirit.

“I disagree.” Stern, and hardened. “Disagree?” Bucky glared at you, “A witch was among my circle, and you disagree?” Bucky’s hands left your cheeks, gripping your shoulders harshly. “She wasn’t a witch, but a healing doctor.” You winced, earning a hiss, “You’re hurting me.” You cried, as Bucky towered over you. His snarling face hairs away from yours, “Hurting you? Not as much as you have hurt me over the few years.” He angrily pleaded, pushing you against a nearby stone wall, his weight pinning you. “How have I hurt you?” Your confusion befuddles you. Limbs wiggling under his clutch, like a hungry wolf, Bucky’s nose nuzzling your scalp, inhaling his sweet aroma of rosewater, and a twinge of spikenard. He grunted from the deep inhale, you stiffened – truly terrified.

“Two years of desiring you.” His nose trailing from your hair, to the terrain of your forehead to your nose, heavy breath against your cupid-bow. “Watching you being tainted by that sinful wench.” His hushed roar makes you whine, shutting your eyes as hot tears trail down your cheeks. Bucky’s lips hairs-away from yours, “I remember when I first met you, when you were engaged to that local blacksmith, I felt immense rage.” He mumbled against your mouth, “How can a peasant have your hand in promise?”

You trembled in his touch, “–but I broke it off with him–” Bucky cut you off, “Yes! To be with that foul woman!” He nibbled on your chin, “I later saw the signs. I watched you glance at her. Lovingly. Remember the walls see all.” Bucky exhaled as he hovered his mouth over yours, the tip of his tongue tantalizing outward.

“Sneaky fingers reaching for each other. I am your shadow. I see what you do, even when I wasn’t around – I have even watched you slumber a few times, I touched myself as you slept.”

He inhaled once again deeply with gravel. “I loathed her whenever she slept by you.” You were taken-back at his confession, Bucky leaned into your ear, “I have even witnessed you touch yourself in the dead of the night; you coming undone is such a sight.” His husky timbre sent shivers down your spine, “I had to be rid of her.” That was the hay that broke the camel back.

Impulsively you bite at his shoulder, your teeth sinking into his flesh, he groaned but not in pain. He growled, “That’s what I love about you, my dove. That fiery bite.” You unlatched your teeth, you squirmed beneath him; he tightened his grip on you.

“You killed her! Why?!” you cried, babbling at your words, “Why Bucky?” Clinging onto the fabric of his silk robe. Tears flood your cheeks, dripping down your chin, Bucky’s unrelenting hands cupped your face once again.

Menacing oceanic meets fearsome brown orbs, brows furrowed – the glow of fire above ignites upon him, illuminating a crown of malice – the face of the Devil himself. “I had too, my dove. At first, I was just going to make her spend her days in the dungeon. But then, those – love letters, promises of running away. It gave me more reason to discard her!” Bucky smashed his lips against yours, all teeth and tongue. Gripping your jaw tightly, forcing you to open wide for his intrusion.

“That whoring wench was going to take you from me!” Bucky’s tongue dove inside your mouth, you gurgled in disgust as his tongue toyed with yours.

“I will burn down the whole kingdom in search of you.” Bucky declared. A wicked kiss of sin. Furious fingers tug at the hem of your dress, nails scrap your flesh as Bucky rips your bodice at the seams; your chest, and belly now exposed to the elements. Your breasts heave free, and he licks his lips like a rabid dog. “Beautiful.” He mutters as you stand frozen in fear as if roots from the soles of your feet grew within the flooring. Bucky’s hands find your breasts, rubs his thumbs over the nipples, mixing with the cool air bellowing from outside – your nipples erect.

Your heartbeat thrumming rapidly in your chest, a harsh rhyme matching the muffled cadence from the grand hall. Nibbling your neck, tasting the salt of your skin. Sneaky hands rummage through layers of fabric of your dress; Bucky knelt a bit to bunch your dress upward.

“Please –” You begged, more fresh tears brimming your eyes. “Silence, my love.” Bucky shushed you tenderly. He yanks your hosens, tearing the linen to pieces, exposing your mound. His knuckles glide within your velvet folds, his fingers soaking in your juices. Popping his fingers in his mouth, moaning at your taste.

“Delicious.” He grumbled. You gain some ounce of confidence, moving your feet to dash out of his grasp, but you fail. You stumble on your feet, as Bucky man-handles you against the wall.

“Stop it!” He barked. Twisting you in his arms, maneuvering you around as your cheek squash against the stone wall. Pinning you with his weight, his chest against your back; his hand wedges between the wall pavement and your stomach.

You try to scream, but he quickly slaps his palm against your lips.

“I _shall_ give you my seed. Let it bloom inside your womb.” Bucky rubbing your exposed belly, his warm breath fanning in your ear, “You _will_ give me an heir.” You whined against his thick fingers squishing your lips shut, hot tears squeeze out shut eyes.

“You should be so grateful.” He hissed, slightly shaking your head by his grip, “Many women have tried to bed me, to gain the gift of carrying my legacy. But they weren’t you – it’s _only_ been you.” Sloppy kiss on your cheek, a string saliva trailing from his lips. Tiny sobs pull out of you.

With the same palm that was touching your stomach now slithers its way to his undergarments, detaching his robe, so he can have more of a spacious reign. “I can’t wait to feel you, my love. Feel your wetness soak me.” He hissed.

Harshly arching your back towards him with the guide of his hand from your mouth traveling to your pelvis, separating your feet by his. Both his palms cup your ass cheeks, separating to reveal the valley of your gaping asshole to your slit. Clutching his cock with his thick fingers, stroking it a bit as he hedged the swollen tip against your slick folds. Leaning against you, securing you, Bucky thrusts himself deep.

No hesitation nor preparation for you to adjust to his size. You shrill at his fullness – thick with girth, and mighty long. “What a sight you will be swollen with my child. Your breasts –” Quickly groping your tits, “Will carry the nectar of life. Not only will my child fest from you, but so will I.” You babble incoherently as he plunges. Sobbing at the stretch, hissing as warm liquid slowly trickles down your thighs dripping on the cold floor.

He can’t stop – but it’s too impulsive, too thrilling. Your face is forced to tilt, facing him, sticky kisses, and moans. Your folds were fluttering, red wine stains his tongue as it plays with yours, husky gruff grunts against your gaped mouth between his fingers. Moist slick gushing a bit from your pussy, coating his balls that slap against your swollen clit, you involuntarily clench onto him.

“Peach-sweet.” Bucky drinks, slurps your spit. A surge of euphoria surges throughout your body, shame floods you as your subconscious tries to float away to a lighter space.

Limbs go lax as you await the inevitable. An empty stare into his blue daggers, as if he wasn’t even there. Your nails digging into the gravel, futile escape. A sharp thrust against your g-spot made you cry out, breaking the daze of compliance “Don’t. Never try to escape me. You will feel everything I give you.”

A creek of a door halts Bucky’s actions, you try to scream, but Bucky shoves his fingers between your lips. A familiar drunken cackle looms at the end of the hall, “Your Highness –” slurred, and taunting. “–Finally claiming your queen.” Bucky snorts, your eyes close in shame, your immodesty exposed to another gentleman – but it wasn’t just any gentleman, it was _Steve_.

Bucky tugs your mouth by his fingers, moving your face to peer in the other direction. You screamed, despite it being muted by Bucky’s digits. Your teary eyes pleading with Steve, but he all but ignores you.

“You couldn’t wait till you got to your chambers.” Steve teased, a grin on his flushed face. A feminine chuckle approach behind Steve, a twirling stumbling body leans on his bicep, “Stevieee…” Appears is Sharon, her face is flushed pink. “ _Oh_ –” She covers her mouth with her dainty fingers, “Well, what an interesting sight.” A knowing smirk on her face, she turns to Steve, “Darling, I feel like –” She stutters, “What’s that Greek chubby winged baby again?” Steve turns to her with an adoring smile.

“The one with the bow and arrow?” She wobbles a bit, fingers sloppily mimicking a shooting arrow; your brows dented in frustration, and confusion at her ignorance of your defilement. “Cupid, love.” Steve steadies her, she squeals, “Cupid!” Sharon grabs both of Steve’s hands, pulling him along down the hall, she tsks at your fuming eyes. “Y/n, you should be glad. If I haven’t told Bucky about the letters, you would’ve left.”

Your eyes widened at her words, your own friend betrays you. “Alright, Sharon, time to leave the love-birds be. I must take you to my chambers.” Steve guides Sharon by the elbows, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Enjoy, punk.” A friendly jeer.

“As always, jerk.” Steve winks at you, as he pats Bucky on the back.

You dry-heave a bit, Bucky removes himself from your lips, shushing you, “Shh. Just enjoy it. Look at them.” Bucky points to the couple fading down the hall. “Steve did everything in his power to be with Sharon. You honestly believe he loved _Peggy_?”

Your shoulders firm, stiffening by the truth – “A drop of Hemlock. A little favor from Dr. Banner. To everyone it was a weak-heart, to us” A flair of his wrist, “– a mercy killing. She was old, and tiring.” Bucky gave you a small kiss on the cheek, stunned as you witness the confession of murder. “Murderer.” You hiss. Bucky’s eyes hardened, “It’s not my only slaying.” He simpered, he snapped his hips against yours. You wail, bearing his teeth, “How you warm my cock. Soon my bed.”

Furious pasts, your body jolting against him, resuming his torment. As if your body wasn’t on display to his confidante, and your former friend. A coil is slowly burning, and rolling inside the pit of your belly, no longer to hold back your cries. Teasing, stroking you to a dizzying climax. Loose hands roaming your body, Bucky’s smug smile at your compliance, a delicious push. Heat blossoms in his eyes, “I love you.” It was breathy, and soft.

Erratic sloppy thrusts, your hips matching his – reaching for that high, months of no touch. You should be repulsed by his, but just for this moment in time, you can pretend. “I –” Pretend it’s not his hands, a blurry vision of familiar brown locks, a strong Slovakian timbre of sweet whispers, “–I–”. Bucky urges you to say it, “Say it.”His voice hoarse, raw. Sweat beads at his brows.

You don’t hear him – a kinder voice flows from him, morphing into the woman you mourn, and probably mourn for the rest of your life.

“Let go, _moja láska._ ” Hot tears fall down your face, colliding down your chest. “I love you.” You shrill, you cum violently upon him, spraying the floor and his clothes, your thighs shaking and covered in slick. Bucky roars into his orgasm, painting your walls white.

Kisses on the nape of your neck, scarred, broken. “By fall, you will rule by me. Hopefully by then, you will be carrying my babe.” Bucky hummed, kissing you non-stop. But, you don’t hear him. You just keep hearing the ringing in your ears, the distant fog of Wanda’s voice fading into the darkness.

_Gone._

_Forever._


End file.
